The Dawson journal., 1887-01-13
THE HOUSE AVE- MIDNIGHT.
Robert ]. Burdetts.

night! The people VINO talk and
laugh and sing in it every day are
asleep, the people who fell asleep
in it long ago come back into it
Every house has these two classes
of tenants. Do We love best those
with whom We can laugh and talk
and sing, or the dear silent ones
who come so noiselessly to our
side and whisper to us in faint,
sweet, PARKWAY whispers that
have no sound, SO we hear only
their very stiffness.
am not tired, but my pen is
weary. 1t falls froin my fingers
and l raise my head. | start to
leave the table aud my eyes fall
upon little book lying upon the
floor. 1t is little First Read
En-" He left it there this fore
noon. [ remember just how l
was impatient because he could
not read the simple little lesson
such All easy lesson and / told
him it was waste OF my time to
teach him, and pushed him away
from me. | remember now, [ see
the flush come into the little tired
face, the brave, cheerful look into
his eyes-his mothers brave pa
tent cserriness, struggling with
his disappointment and pain. l
see him lie down on the floor, and
t4e little face bend over the
troublesome little lesson, such a
simple, easy lesson, and baby might
read it. Then, after little strug-
gle alone, it has to be given up,
and the baftled little soldier, vita
one more appealing look toward
NE for reinforcements, sighs and
goes away from the lesson he can
not read to play the play thar
comforts him. And there lies the
little book, just as be left it. All,
me, | could kneel down and kiss
it nov as though it were alive
and loving.
Why, what was my time worth
to me to-day? What was there in
the book | wanted to read one
half so precious to me as one COO
ing word from the prattling lips
that quivered when I turned
away. | hate the book 1 read.
| will never look at it again.
Were it all the book in the world
| think l would burn it. All its
gracious words are lies. / say To
you, though all men praise the
book, and though an hour ago [
thought it excellent, say to you
that there is poison in its hateful
pages. Why, what car 1 learn
| from books that baby lips cannot
teach me? Do you know [ want
to 60 to the door of his room and
listen; the house is so still; may
be he is not breathing. Why. if
between my books and my boy |
choose my book, why should not
God leave me with my books
My hateful books.
But [ was not harsh. I was a
little impatient. Because, you
see, ms lesson was 80 easy, so
simple. All, me, there were two
of US trying to read this after
noon. They were two easy, SIM
pie lessons. Mine was such q
very simple, easy, pleasant, loving
one to learn. Just little throb
of patience, Of gentleness, of love
that would have made my own
heart glow and laugh and sing.
The letters we're 80 large and
plain, the words SO easy and the
sentences so short And II Oh,
pity me, l missed every word l
dd not read one line Alright. See
here Is my copy, now, all blurred
aud blisterad with tears and heart
ache, ali marred and misspelled
and olotted. / am ashaued to
show it to the Master, and yet |
know He will be patient with me;
I know how loving and gentle He
will be. Why, how patiently and
loving all these years He has been
teaching me this simple lesson /
failed upon to-day. But when my
little pupil stumbled on a single
words my time, then, 80 much
more precious than the Masters
that ] cannot teach the little les
| -, ,,,n,.l. thnn nnnnp